Nick
by wildwolfy
Summary: This is a oneshot tale about the life of Nearly Headless Nick. Rated teen just in case. The full summary is inside. Read and review, please. Wheeee.


Nick

The Odyssey of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington

Summery: We know the story of Harry, and know so much about so many of the other characters. But what about some of the most influential characters that we know next to nothing about. This is the story of the life of Nick, a.k.a Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindors ghost.

A/N: I do not own Nearly Headless Nick or any characters that are in JK's books or the little ballad at the end nor do I own Shakespeare. But I own everything else.

To clarify, this is set sometime after Voldemort was defeated by Harry that Nick is telling about his story.

I now wonder the halls of Hogwarts as a spirit, a half of a being. The walls are quiet and dark at night, yet there is no point in rest, there is nothing left to rid the tiredness from. My flesh is rotten and decayed within a box for years upon years, there is nothing left. Sometimes I wander about death and it always leaves questions, what does it mean to die? Is death when you just seize to live, or can there be more to it? There once was a time when I was happy and carefree, I could have had a family. Oh, yes, death is a burden that everyone carries but there is so much life to it to. Death is what makes life so extraordinary and unique in our world.

The walls do look dreary at night but you can see how it holds a life of its own. The castle, although just made of stone and rock, is alive and breaths. The magic of its holders give it life, all us know it and all of us can feel it. That is why it holds so many secrets; it was more then just the founders that made this place what it was. People live within the castle, and the castle lives within them.

Sometimes I wonder if I like so many other 'ghosts' were left behind for a reason, or maybe it was just our own fear that kept us in the world of the living. Maybe there just isn't another place to go after death, but then how are we here? Is there a place to move on to, and will we truly be happy there? All I know is that it is too late for me, for all of us that are left here roaming the earth for the rest of eternity. Sometimes I wish I could go back, it can be lonely here.

Our fear of mortality can drive us to do so many absurd things, that is why we hold so many secrets that is why we keep separate from the muggles. They can't handle our world, the rules we built around us. Sometimes I wonder if we ourselves can. We have lived too long in a place that we are in constant fear and terror, I always see it in others eyes. Can they live on like that, can I? We live so much in our own secrets that we can't trust one another. But I guess that it has always been this way, there is always someone to follow another's footsteps.

Should it really be a man that we fear? Are we only afraid because it could mean our own death? What exactly drives us to fear? What is fear? Oh, so many questions that I want answers too, I could always ask, but I guess that these are questions that one could only answer for themselves.

Maybe it would be better to avoid these questions and just find a reason that we have to go on, for we survive off each other, companionship is the only reason that we are still here. Everyone has an urge to be liked or loved, we all want approval. For someone for me it is really hard to find companionship, especially with the living, so maybe while I still have yours I'll tell you about my life.

There was a time that I lived happily and was thought as a hero, I never had any children, but I did have a wife. Oh, how I loved her, my dear Catiline, I would be with her now, but I loved life too much to let go. She never feared death; she was a very strong woman. The only thing that I know was that she was there for my execution and that she died a short three years after from illness. It was probably grief that caused it; I never wanted it to happen.

Ah, but maybe my journey through life would be easier to understand, if told from the beginning. It is odd though that we be birthed and know so little of who we are, and what we are, but understand our deepest importance of our existence. The moment we come out of the womb, it is believed, is the moment we know that we are meant to die the same way as we were born, yet, we never understand what death is.

It was many, many years ago that I was brought into this world. My mother, bless her heart, was widowed just before my birth. I know that my father was a knight for the duke, his title was therefore passed onto me when I came of age, he died in battle. My mothers name was Ophenia, my fathers Sir Williams de Mimsy-Porpington. My mother was burned at the stake three months after I was born, she was nineteen. My parents were married for only two years. My mother was given to my father on her sixteenth birthday, but they had delayed their marriage a year. But after my mother was killed I was sent to live under my aunt and uncles, on my fathers side, roof till I married and gained my inheritance. My father being the oldest male in his family gained all the inheritance from his father, me being the only child, got the same.

Luckily they didn't live very far, so I still grew up in England. My aunt and uncle treated me well, and at four they hired a teacher to come and give me an education since I could afford it. Most of the day was spent learning my math and to read and write, I never saw my guardians until the weekend and that was only if I was lucky enough to get everything done. When I turned seven a messenger came, he looked to have traveled a long way. My aunt and uncle assumed that it was news of the worst nature, but were surprised when they were told that it was a message for me, that night I was told that my mother was a witch. After that he would come and teach me the basics of what magic was and how to use it. He was my mother's personal guard, and also a squib.

He lived with us until he died from a sickness, probably the same one that killed my wife. But he would also tell me some stories about my mother. She was a good woman, and it was a pity that she died the way she did. You see, she became depressed after my father died and she never was able to carry a wand, so she never was able nor did she want to defend herself from the people who took her. Although, it may have been a better death then starving, since all his inheritance was put straight to a vault, in which would have been locked, until I came of age. They were very tight about security and had similar viewpoint as the muggles about rights of the gender. They were horrible times, in a much different way then today.

Sadly enough the guard never told me his real name, just told me to call him Viator, Traveler. He died after I turned eleven, about a year after I started learning at a wizarding school, witches weren't even allowed to go to school for magic till quite a time later, the only exception was if they were in extremely wealthy families and seen fit. I was taught how to use magic, but in those times people knew about it and were on the look out so we had to be extremely careful. Although there was that one witch, Wendelin, you have probably read about her. She used to be in a rich family, but then one of her daughters was burned and she went mad. She would intentionally be caught so that they would put her at the stake; I guess that it was a way of revenge, maybe she just didn't want to die yet.

When I was thirteen a war broke out, a dark wizard named Zathius Nox Noctis, came into power. He wasn't nearly as powerful as the one who called himself Lord Voldemort was, but he was strong. I would say that he is fairly comparable to Grindelwald; he killed many people and betrayed many of the most powerful wizards of that time. It was said that shortly after he started rising to power there was a secret organization that was rising under the very earth. It was more likely that they would find abandoned tunnels or have a lair underground. From what I later heard they called themselves Trucido of obscurum, slayer of darkness. It was like god came in our time of need and sent the resistance to our aid.

We were afraid and always listened for news, but we always kept hope. I just prayed that there wouldn't be a letter coming to tell me that my aunt and uncle were dead; they were the closest thing to a family that I had. After two years there was still no news that they were hurt in any way, it was good news for me so far, but I still worried. My life changed forever that year, that was the year that I met Catiline. She was so beautiful and wonderful, we got along so well and we were happy. That year I had come home to visit just two months after my birthday and my uncle told me that I was old enough to be married. He had apparently met a traveler who had a daughter, who was also old enough to marry, at that time she was nearly thirteen. They apparently made an agreement, the traveler could be a guest at their home and I would be married to his daughter before my sixteenth birthday. Luckily I got the time to know her, and her me. We were happy with the arrangement.

Sadly, I still had school to go to and until the marriage I had no way to support her and her father was leaving at the end of two months after I came home. My aunt and uncle told me that I had the end of the school year. I worked for a blacksmith and found any other small jobs that would pay and sent that money to my fiancée. After I finished that year I left school and went to buy a house for me and my wife-to-be to live in. We bought a small shack to live in; I then built my own house. It was nowhere near a castle but as long as I was with Catiline, I didn't care. Six months later a messenger came to the house and told me that I would take my fathers place as a knight for the duke. As it happened to be, my father was one of the duke's most trusted and also his adviser. I was granted many riches for my services. I still worried about Catiline, but she was a strong woman.

I spent most of twenty years protecting and doing the services of the duke. He would sometimes send me off to give messages or business with other higher powers of the government. Every once in a while I would even end up doing some of the bidding of the king and the queen. I kept thinking about Catiline, though. The services did give us a lot along with my inheritance, and we were able to get a lovely house.

It was difficult and hard, but it was also my honor to protect the duke. There weren't very many fights, but just thinking about all I had and how lucky I was, was keeping me alive. My aunt and uncle had died in 1475, it was an attack by a few of Zathius's followers, the Night Tremors, they called themselves that because they knew people feared them, and most of their attacks were at night. Also they called themselves that because of his name, Nox Noctis, it means night.

A year after my aunt and uncles deaths the war started picking up. Muggles although suspicious of witchcraft and magic, did not expect nor believe that this war could have anything to do with magic; it was just a war to them. Being a knight I had to help fight this war, I had more advantage though, being a wizard and the dukes right hand man. During the war I never used my wand unless I had to; anyway everyone else was too busy to notice. Swords swung, blood poured, limbs flew, cries rang. We fought for our right; we fought for our families and safety. It was wonderful, yet terrible. It was an honor, yet it was a sin that I had to fight that war. Five long years that war continued, it was kept quiet, but seeing as we were on the border and moving, it wasn't all that hard. The enemy eventually got the better odds; the only thing keeping me going was the thought of Catiline.

I never claimed my story to be a happy one, if it was I probably wouldn't be telling you it right now; I would probably with my loving Catiline. I saw many things when we fought the Night Tremors, then again, many people did. Like wars that have happened and will happen, it was a war of wizards' verses non-magic. Although you should understand, it was not to long ago that the very same war was happening, and now it's over, now it's over.

Listen to me, an old fool, but I got through it. People I guess saw some sort of light and found a reason to keep going, and then be able to forget. I don't know though, the only thing I know was that I had my own reason. It was spell verses sword and new men came every day. There was that one day, that one amazing day that the last thing we thought would happen did. It was over they just stopped; when we scouted we found many dead wizards and our own alike. To this day I can't really tell what happened, all I know was on that day June, 15, 1481 the war was over. My personal belief is that Zathius accomplished what ever task he really wanted and had nothing left, or just ran. I don't know what he did after or if he made it through the war, for all I know he may have died and his followers just stopped.

I was finally going back, going home.

I later heard that during the war he had been poisoned by his most trusted adviser, Shalwin Salzine. I don't know if it was true or not.

After five more long years of servitude I was finally able to go back to were I belonged, I was retired. My lovely Catiline and I thought about children, but it just wasn't meant to be. It seems as though she was unable, but as long as we had each other I was happy. Most of my time was spent making up for the time lost when I was serving the duke; I was also content with writing poetry and novels. They were actually fairly close to some that a lad named William Shakespeare wrote it is too bad that he was a muggle and was around many years after my time, we may have made great friends.

A few more years went by, and one day when I decided to take a stroll I noticed that I got rather odd looks. Now that I think about it I wasn't the only one, my Catiline got those looks sometimes, too. They were rather odd, like people were getting suspicious of us. Those times were still bad, but I believed that things were starting to get better. People weren't so suspicious of witchcraft anymore. You remember how I told you about Wendelin, right? As it seems a few years before my aunt and uncles deaths, they pushed her off the cliff and into a river that was in the cavity of the giant rocks (A/N: I had a hard time thinking of the right words, so don't judge me to hard). Oh, I nearly lost track of what I was saying. People were giving us strange looks; well I guess being in your 40's is a little old for that time, although, usually magical beings live so much longer then a muggle. Ah, maybe she was a witch; it would have been nice to have the chance to find out.

We tried to just ignore it and live our lives like normal, it was rather frustrating to try to do everyday chores with people staring at you and calculating your every move. Luckily as time passed it became less, although, there were those few who would not give up. An amazing six years passed after I left, I was still known as Sir, I rather like that title, but thanks to that little man in the portrait he made even baboons fit enough to wear that title

(A/N: yep, the baboon is referring to Sir Cadogan), honestly, waving his sword like it was some sort of- well, this is my story not his, thank goodness.

I remember when we would walk around our home and talk about what we would hope to do and our dreams. We would wish that things were so much better, there would be no worries. I would always be paranoid, especially if it had to do with Catiline, you could say I was as bad as Alastor Moody, may he rest in peace. But then again, there was that one fatal day, one mistake and it all ended. Who knows how many years I could have had, who knows how else they could have ended, I miss her very, very much.

I even remember the date well, October, 30, 1492. I was on one of my regular strolls, Catiline was in the house, she liked to have some alone time. There was this old lady, I accidentally bumped into her. I didn't think before I acted, I grabbed the only weapon I had on me, my wand. That was the only day I let my guard down, and it was for someone who was practically helpless. She grabbed at her teeth, I didn't hit her hard enough to hurt her, I'm very sure of that. She moaned and whimpered, my mind froze, I followed my instinct, action first. "I can help you," I said, then I told her to hold still as I grabbed my wand. When I went to perform the spell my mind started functioning again, but it was already too late, she shrieked, people noticed. Already I saw the damage that I had done, but it didn't stop there, the woman's canines started growing and deforming until we saw what they had become, miniature tusks. I must have panicked and performed the spell wrong. I turned and panicked it became worse, in the crowd I saw a face that is impossible for me to forget, she was shocked, my dear Catiline. I wanted to run but I couldn't, I wanted to hide but it was too late.

The next day, October, 31, 1492, Halloween, at noon, I was executed. They used an axe to chop off my head, 42 times they swung it at my neck and they were still unable to completely sever it. Now it hangs by a thread a reminder of my life. 42 times with a blunt blade, and I still remember her face, swing after swing, her face, just hers.

I was actually executed here, not at the school, no. The school wasn't even built yet, no matter what everybody believes. They are thinking of the Slytherin line, they have taught for thousands of years in their school, then it was destroyed and the founders moved the school here, on top of my grave. They buried me were they executed me.

I still linger and wander these halls; my soul purpose now is the students that come through those doors, to educate. But that doesn't stop me from thinking about her, or questioning. I know that you don't have answers, and that my questions don't really have much to do with my story. My story may not be the best but they are mine and they are real. I have loved and I have lost, that is life, but could death be gaining them back? I don't know and may never know. Don't be afraid to move on, don't be afraid. Life should be cherished, it is unique and is a wonderful gift, but death is another adventure, it is another part of life. Some of us don't want to take that journey, and sometimes I wish I had, I have known some great many wizards and witches that have passed on, and I hope that where ever they are it is peaceful and everything that they have imagined.

It is late, it's a pity that I'll have to see you go, I was rather getting used to your company. It does get lonely here at night, and none of the students come to see me much anymore. I may just be an old ghost, but sometimes it's refreshing seeing young faces, it reflects what the world has come to. It is a better place, everything that Catiline and I had wished for. Well, off to bed you go, thank you for listening to an old fools story, and remember no matter where your journeys take you, you will always have a friend with a listening ear, fare-the-well.

It was a mistake any wizard could make  
who was tired and caught on the hop  
one piffling error, and then, to my terror,  
I found myself facing the chop.  
Alas for the eve when I met Lady Grieve  
A-strolling the park in the dusk!  
She was of the belief I could straighten her teeth  
Next moment she'd sprouted a tusk.  
I cried through the night that I'd soon put her right  
But the process of justice was lax;  
They'd brought out the block, though they'd mislaid the rock  
Where they usually sharpened the axe.  
Next morning at dawn, with a face most forlorn,  
The priest said to try not to cry,  
"You can come just like that, no, you won't need a hat,"  
And I knew that my end must be nigh.  
The man in the mask who would have the sad task  
Of cleaving my head from my neck,  
Said "Nick, if you please, will you get to your knees,"  
And I turned to a gibbering wreck.  
"This may sting a bit" said the cack-handed twit  
As he swung the axe up in the air,  
But oh the blunt blade! No difference it made,  
My head was still definitely there.  
The axeman he hacked and he whacked and he thwacked,  
"Won't be too long", he assured me,  
But quick it was not, and the bone-headed clot  
Took forty-five goes 'til he floored me.  
And so I was dead, but my faithful old head  
It never saw fit to desert me,  
It still lingers on, that's the end of my song,  
And now, please applaud, or you'll hurt me.

(A/N: the ballad is not mine, it is Nick's that was actually cut from the book, I think.)

You can find it know one thing that would be spooky, if his wife was the fat lady, talk about ironic. Any way, tell me what you think, review, review, review. Please, go crazy, wheee. This fanfic, was a little more serious than my others, but it was fun to write. I kind of don't like the ending very much.


End file.
